


#08 Shopping

by 221_french_bee



Series: 30 Days OTP Challenge [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ballet Dancer Sherlock Holmes, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Shopping, Christmas Smut, Holding Hands, John Plays Rugby, M/M, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Teenlock, balletlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221_french_bee/pseuds/221_french_bee
Summary: In the middle of a crowded Harrods, 2 days before Christmas, John needs Sherlock’s help to find the perfect gift for his sister. But can the teens help each other when they have been avoiding each other after this night, this drunk kiss? John is in awe, Sherlock is blushing, and Christmas fluff is in the air!





	#08 Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This text was sleeping in computer since last Christmas and it’s time to get it out.  
> All information about the Harrods escalator are true, you can look it up here: http://www.william-mitchell.com/harrods.htm  
> As usual, English is not my first language, so any remarks or corrections are welcomed.

London was buzzing with energy, Christmas carols spreading in the street from the shops through the cold December air. On Oxford Street, Harrods's windows were brightly illuminated with red and green lights; there was fake snow and tinsel garland in every corner.  
Inside, it was a swirl of customers rushing for last seconds gift at it was only days before Christmas. On the alleys, children were running excitedly with parents shouting at them, arms full of wrapped boxes. At the entrance, a blond teen was standing with a bemused expression on his face.

 “Geez, it was a bad idea to come today.”

“But John, you said-”

“I know what I said, Sherlock”, snapped John. His companion shuddered at his side, his eyes worried under his wild mass of dark auburn curls. John seemed to catch himself and winced. He sighed deeply and came again. “Sorry. It's just... I know I should have come sooner. With all these people, it will be hard to find a gift for Harry.”

Sherlock nodded, carefully avoiding pointing that was exactly what the other teen had said the year before, and the year before that one. In fact, it was what John had said every year since Sherlock had been friend with the young rugby player. Why John kept being late was beyond his comprehension: his sister's birthday was the 22th of December, and John always waited until the last moment to find her a gift, resulting in a rushed visit on the pre-Christmas shopping nightmare. John complained every year, sweared that he’ll come sooner next time, and then forgot all about his resolution until the next season.

Sherlock blurted a sigh of exasperation as he deported himself on the left to avoid being crushed by a couple who was arguing about the gift for their respective mother-in-law The young dancer despised crowded stores, even more than John did. But when the other teen had asked him to come he just couldn't have said no, because it meant that John was at least talking to him again. And it wasn't like John had talked to him much in the last 2 weeks. In fact, since that night, since that party, things had been pretty tense between the two friends.

John's rugby team has won some important match against that super tough team from a university situated in another part of London. The whole team had been celebrating in one of John’s team player's house, and the party was open to all the team's friends.  
As Sherlock's ballet season was finished, so he had authorized himself to go out when John had asked him to come. There had been some loud music, a lot of singing and drinking games, and John had been increasingly tipsy and touchy feeling as the soirée passed by.

Sherlock had been designated to bring him home, even though he was pretty tipsy too. They walked wobbly all the way back at John’s place, holding arms for both warmth and support. They had kept silence all the trip back, John becoming sleeper as the alcohol really kicked in. Sherlock was prepared to have to lift him to take the two steps in front of the Watson’s family house, but instead when they reached the doorstep, John had suddenly evaded from Sherlock’s grip. He had opened his eyes, his face mere inches from Sherlock’s, babbled about tinsel light reflecting on Sherlock eyes, before reaching with unsure hand to the young dancer face and pressing his lips against Sherlock's one in a floppy kiss. It may had been a little bit more than that, maybe that John's tongue had reached Sherlock's lips, and maybe that Sherlock had grabbed the other teen’s short hair in a possessive grip. Maybe John had let out a telling moan, and maybe Sherlock had felt his knees go weak.  
But John had pushed back after a heartbeat, stared at Sherlock with an indistinguishable look, then had hastily took his key out and ran into his house before Sherlock had managed to process what had exactly happened here.

Sherlock had went home in state of shock and confusion, playing and replaying the scene for hours in his bed that night and all the night ever since.

Because they were both pretty tipsy, it surely didn’t mean anything. And because they had been friends for years, and even if John had confessed been more interested in boys than in girls, and even if Sherlock has always been more interested in John more than in anybody else, well... it didn't mean anything, right?

They had avoided each other the next couple of days, until John had just sat at Sherlock’s table during lunch ours and had commented on the quality of the school’s sandwiches, his tone forced and his eyes never leaving the plastic table.  
Sherlock had nodded, made a comment about the state of the kitchen’s staff backstage drama, and since then it was like everything was back as normal. So, Sherlock guessed they were over it? Friends again? John had not offered any explanation for his behavior that night, and so Sherlock had acted like he did not remembered it either.

But it was obvious that it was all an act, and their inability to regain a natural relationship wasn't helping. John was unusually abrasive and prone to outburst, while Sherlock was unnaturally silent and careful around him, resulting a constant tense atmosphere between the two teens.  
Days later, in he middle of a crowd, with shining lights and Christmas carols blasting at his ears, Sherlock was still feeling the chill of this night on his cheeks, the gentle grip of John’s hands on his jaw, the chafed skin of John’s lips against his. Sherlock suddenly felt light headed, and started to ask himself if coming today had been a good idea.

“So, any suggestion about what I could get Harry?” John’s voice pierced his thoughts. The blond teen was avoiding his gaze, but his tone was clearly apologetic. “Maybe the new book of that French author she can't shut up about?”

“Not a good idea, you're mother bought her that already,” responded Sherlock.

John’s shoulder dropped “Really? Are you sure?”

“Totally. She had already put the gift under the Christmas tree. It was hardly a difficult deduction”.

The Watsons tense finances made them unite Harry's birthday and Christmas gift. So they had the habit to buy her presents first and place them at the feet of the Christmas tree, waiting for the rest of the family gifts who were added later. Sherlock had only needed a rapid look at the vividly colored wrapped boxes this morning to know all about their content, as he was waiting for John to find is gloves before going with him on this last minute emergency gift finding.

John ruffled his hair with a sigh.

“Well, not that then. Maybe a new scarf-”

“Grandparents. A hand knitted one, with an ugly pattern, I'm afraid. And there is already a second packet with a 'John' nametag sit next to Harry's one.”

“Oh no, grandma had swore that it was the last year she did those things!”

“John, you always manage to 'forget' them on the locker rooms after practice or have them 'stolen' in less than a week after Christmas anyways”, countered Sherlock.

Both teen shared a smirk.

“True,” admitted John “Hey, have you deduced the other gifts under the tree?”

“I will not tell you yours. It would be cheating.”

John rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Not mine _obviously_ , he replied; instinctively using one of Sherlock’s favorite comeback, I just want to know what the other had found for Harry, so I don't buy her the same thing.”

“Well, as I’ve said, your mom had bought her a book and there are also some bath products from your aunt, and how could you not be aware of that with the coconut smell that invaded all your living room is beyond me. And Clara had already put the box with new shoes under the Christmas tree, but she plan to give your sister lingerie for after.”

John choked.

“Wh... what? How could have you deduced that if the box isn't under the Christmas tree?”

“Clara had left a clothing magazine last time she went over to your place, it’s still on the coffee table. The spine has distinctive cracks so it was easy to find witch pages have been looked more. And I’ve been told that it's common to give sexy things as gift between couples. Well, that’s what Lestrade does with my brother, anyways”.

Sherlock rolled his eyes with a disgusted grimace, make clear his thought on the matter of his brother’s relationship with the aspiring policeman.

“So to be clear, for the moment you have under the tree a scarf from your grandma, book from your mom, smelly bath products from your aunt, and shoes from Clara. Just keep clear of that and you’ll be fine.”

As John was silent for a minute, Sherlock turned toward him. The blond was looking at him with clear admiration, his mouth slightly agape, and Sherlock felt himself blush.

“You are incredible,” whispered John. He realized suddenly what he said out loud, and both teen blushed spectacularly, before turning away from each other. Sherlock's hears were burning and he forced himself to breathe calmly, glancing at John when the teen forcibly cleared his throat.

“Ok. Sure. Well… I’ll, hum, keep that in mind.”

They both nodded needlessly for another minutes, until John remarked.

“Wait, why were you looking at Clara’s girl magazine?”

Sherlock felt his guts turn into ice

 “I...” he stuttered hurriedly “I need a wrap top for my dance class, and it's really hard to find in the men's section, so I-”

“Hey, it's ok. No worries, it’s… it’s really ok,” interrupted John, reassuring him with a gentle wave of hand.

John decided not to tell Sherlock about that time he had retrieved one of Harry's magazine too, because there was some poster of a footballer in a far more denuded way than in his own sports magazines. Yeah, and no need either to tell Sherlock that the said player had some curly dark hair, and a slender body to die for. No need at all.  
A bump in the shoulder from another customer brought him back to reality.

“Right. So, maybe I can get her a new DVD or something? They may have some Doctor Who Christmas sales mayb- oh, sorry.”

The mother didn't even turned toward him, the cry of her baby in his stroller covering the teen voice.

“Well”, mused Sherlock “I've didn't seen any DVD box, so it can be a good- hey, watch out! “

This time, the man turned back, but only to send them a dark glare and mumbling something rude about disrespectful teenagers standing in the way. John stepped in front of Sherlock before the passionate dancer could say something even ruder in return.

“Well, is it me or it’s even more crowded than last year?”

Sherlock continued to glare at the man’s back, his chin raised in indignation.

“I don't know. Maybe. I hate that.”

“I know, I'm really sorry.” John looked at his feet, bringing his courage, “But I've asked you to come because I want to-Sherlock?”

“Over there!”

Sherlock’s tall stature was waving at him from the other side of a compact group of tourist. Their guide had made them walk straight between the two teenagers, and they were now separated by a mass of foreigners excitingly flashing their cameras.  
John managed to join him, but didn’t attempt to restart the conversation while they tried to stay together on the way to the 2nd floor. They were another time separated by the crowd before they took the escalator. Because it was Sherlock's favorite, they always took the Egyptian's escalator to get to the upstairs floor. Unfortunately, it was the most impressive one, so also the most packed, gathering the usual Londoners with additional tourists.

John was already to the input of the second floor when Sherlock finally reached him.  
“Sorry, but this man was saying that the ceiling decoration was some random Arabic-like representation when it's clearly inspired by the Egyptian Dendera Temple bas-relief! I couldn't let it pass!”

John smiled warmly at the dancer as Sherlock blabbed about Zodiacal figures and astronomical representation. Why Sherlock had deleted heliocentrism but kept stored information about constellation shapes and names was beyond him, but Sherlock's passion was too cute to be frowned upon.

“You're insufferable,” said he, but there were no harsh tones in his words.

“I'm truly sorry. I'll try to stay close to you, I promise.”

But, unsurprisingly, the two of them were once again separated as soon as they put a foot in the alley of the 2nd floor. Sherlock was apologizing again when John held out his hand.

“Here, hold my hand.”

Sherlock didn't move, clearly taken aback.

“What?”

“I've said 'hold my hand'.”

“But... Are you sure?”

“It will be easier that way.”

John tried to play it cool, like it wasn't a huge thing to hold another boy's hand in a middle of a public place. Sherlock hesitated a moment more, then he extended his arm too, and in a second they were holding hands in the middle of Harrods's aisles.

John didn't intertwine their fingers, but he held them tight when he stepped once more into the crowd. Sherlock followed him, their arms brushing when they walked closer than before. There was suddenly a myriad of sensations from his hand to his shoulder, and he struggled to find his balance. He was sure that John would feel his elevated heartbeat from the contact between their palms. Or was the accelerated throb he detected coming from John?  
Either way it felt… good. John’s hand was warm and a bit smaller than his own, and Sherlock felt calluses brush against his skin when they slightly bumped into each other.

After a moment, realizing that everyone was minding their own business, he relaxed, noticing another phenomenon. John had instinctively given him his left hand, and this little fact make him remember that John was left-handed, contrary to Sherlock, who was right-handed.  
Much to his displeasure, there was a tiny voice inside his head that yelped in delight: the idiotic and annoying romantic side of Sherlock beamed about signs of destiny and perfect complementarily. Even his practical side told him how convenient it was, because John's left-handedness worked with Sherlock's right-handedness. That way, they could either share a handicap, or have both their good hands in use, without releasing contact.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sherlock turned toward John. The blonde was facing the other way, his free hand nervously playing with Christmas trinkets on the shelves.

“I'm thinking about the convenience of left-handedness,” answered Sherlock honestly.

John gaped at him with his eyebrows raised, before bursting out in laughter.

“Ok, I don't want to know.”

And if John didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the afternoon, even after getting out of the shops and into the much calmer streets, well, neither of them complained.

 


End file.
